


Taking Pictures

by Trifoilum, TunaaBabee



Series: Texting Robert [2]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Developing Friendships, Fluffy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Second Person, Plans For The Future, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Rehab, Relationship Discussions, Sappy, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:46:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trifoilum/pseuds/Trifoilum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TunaaBabee/pseuds/TunaaBabee
Summary: You learned that you need as many tools as you possibly could to preserve your memories.((CW: Vague mentions of alcoholism and rehab, emotional breakdown))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another top-quality work by Trifoilum on Discord! I take no credit for this work, just helping a friend get their work out there. ^u^

Memories were so fleeting, and once someone’s gone, hat’s all they left. You learned this many, many years ago. With Amanda leaving, the lesson came back in full force.

From a young age, Amanda was always the heart and the eye; always curious, yet steady. Seeing your Manda Panda fly away was natural and yet, so uneasy; she’s going to face the world, leaving her mark, build a home on her own...away from you. You found yourself thinking about the past; the loneliness and grief and how Amanda filled that hole. How you could finally appreciate Alex’s existence in your life instead of letting the pain of loss linger over you.

For all of this, you decided to learn taking pictures, armed with a smartphone that had seen better days. It was weird, and a smartphone was so thin, so fragile, but the only way from here is forward.

Because you learned that you need as many tools as you possibly could to preserve your memories.

 

***********

Ever since Robert Small had opened up to you, you’d been sending him pictures.

  
From the select pictures you sent Amanda today, Robert received a close-up picture of River's face, her cheeks rosy and her lips pouting. Robert replied with a picture of several whittled animals. In the center were a bear, a fox, and a wolf, each in differently colored woods.

 

_'pick one'_

_'or two or three'_

**'Those are all nice. Have you tried making Betsy?'**

 

The older man had been ridiculously improving ever since he allocated his extra waking hours into whittling, and the various animals standing on your kitchen drawer were proof of it. His withdrawal from alcohol was a source of worry, but you knew Robert Small liked to surprise people.

 

_'good idea'_

_'and I know what you'll really like'_

_'my cock'_

 

**'BOBERT YOU SAID WE'RE TAKING THIS SLOW'**

_‘And I told you to stop calling me bobert but you didn’t do it either_

_‘I’m talking about whittling tho’_

_'should be a challenge’_

_‘I jack my cock everyday'_

_'do you still keep my cock'_

 

You did, and you’d be lying to say you never used it for your …nightly material. But you wouldn’t say it.

 

**'can’t you just make Betsy?'**

_'Too late, you're getting Betsy and my cock. Have fun using it'_

**'I CANNOT USE IT'**

**'THERE WILL BE SPLINTERS'**

_'hey I whittle I don't make silicon moulds'_

_silicon only captures the shape of my dick but it doesnt capture the SPIRIT'_

 

Was there a story behind that? _DO YOU EVEN WANT TO KNOW?_

 

**'....so if I message you in 4 am saying "I think theres a splinter in my asshole", wanna get it out for me?'**

_'gladly'_

 

A few minutes later he added,

 _'if its any help every time i had to jack myself off again for reference i thought of you'_  

The vivid image of the man rapidly pleasing himself was delicious and distracting.  You imagined his chest heaving as his breathing got more and more ragged, the hand moving in crescendo. He would mutter your name, until he let out a long, relieved groan, and-- 

_'you enjoyed that, didn’t you’_

Fucker. You grinned.

 

***********

 

You sent a selfie of Amanda. Just a few weeks, and she already looked different, older, somehow wiser. You talked to her whenever both of you were available and so far, things seemed to go well on that side of your life. But what was especially new was a switch knife she proudly displayed. It looked like yours.

**‘Did you give my daughter a switch knife?’**

 ' _stop calling me bobert’_

_'universities are dangerous’_

_'some cryptids may lurk there’_

_'better safe than sorry’_

_'not to mention the creeps’_

**‘Please stop breaking my completely irrational hope that Amanda’s university years are going to be peaceful and harmless'**

**‘…But seriously, it means so much for you to care about her safety. Thank you : )’**

_'no worries’_

_'…not the type to gift things before and’_

 

 He didn’t continue. You knew he was facing the reality of that ‘before’; what he did and didn’t do to Val, his (actual and perceived) failure as a father. But the only way from here is forward.

 

**‘You never send anything to Val?’**

' _yeah’_

_'never really thought about it’_

_'she probably didn’t deserve anything from me’_

**‘Want to send something to Val?’**

 ' _what’_

**‘A gift. Anything; care package, knitted sweater, give her something she’ll cherish but would never dare to show to anyone else. Time to be a Dad, Mr. Robert Small.’**

_'…..I’m not giving Val my whittled cock’_

_‘..do you think she’ll want anything from me?’_

**‘ ‘It would have made a REAL conversation piece, but seriously. She’s offering an olive branch-- let’s find something. I’ll pay. Consider it my thanks for your gift’**

_'…yeah’_

_‘I’ll ask her if she wants anything‘_

_‘…thanks’_

 

In the end, you carefully packed Robert’s whittled animals, one of Robert’s tactical knives, and a modern vinyl from Vinyl Fantasy VII. On the top was an old childhood picture of the Small family when things were perfectly fine.  Robert’s gaze at the photo was unusually tender.

 

***********

 

Today’s dinner was a tub of ice cream, because you’re a Responsible Adult. Vanilla, because you’re Old. You sent the picture of the half-eaten tub to Robert. The reply was unusual.

 

_'Come here, nerd.'_

**‘…Robert?’**

_'no need'_

_'ignore her'_

**'....Robert ? Mary? What happened? '**

 

He’s with Mary in Jim’s and Kim’s, that much was clear. Perhaps that should have been more worrying, if not for the knowledge that his intake had decreased into a glass or beer or white wine whenever he went with you. And Mary wouldn’t dare to mess with her friend’s recovery; but what was with the message? And did she not know your number? You were slightly offended and about to express it in a Dad way when Mary replied using Robert’s phone again.

 

_'Look, I'm giving this loser a few options for treatment and he’s being obtuse.'_

_'He's not helping his recovery by insisting on doing this alone'_

_'Please just come here. I'm trying to drink in peace and I can't do that when he’s acting like a child.’_

 

Reality quickly asserted itself. You knew his path of recovery would go on forever, but you just saw the true weight of the phrase ‘in recovery’. There were quiet days where the future looked bright. There were some days where the inner storm was visibly hiding. The realization that everything that happened before was but the prelude was thrilling and frightening.  The only way from here is forward and it wouldn’t always be smooth and straightforward; but you were ready no matter how rough. So you replied Mary.

 

**’I’ll be there.’**

 

***********

 

“Joseph says fucking WHAT? Oh, fuck this; I’m outta here.”

***********

 

Robert told you what had happened with Joseph. His tone was bitter and acidic; it said everything you needed to know about the matter. Which was why Robert knowing that a few of the recommendations Mary had was from Joseph almost ruined everything.

 

**‘Robert’**

**‘Robert, are you okay? Can we talk?’**

**‘Robert, please answer my call.’**

**‘Robert’**

 

He holed up inside his house. He shut people out again—even Mary, this time. His walls were now fully up once more, and it was heartbreaking to watch. There are many things to fear—a relapse, or various withdrawal symptoms, or worse. And yet approaching him….. The fear returned like it never left. You would never want to break his heart, but what if this was the one that broke him? What if –you- were the one who broke him?

It took some time to remind yourself that it was never about you. It was about him, and his recovery, and if it was Amanda….. you’d give her space. But Robert was shouldering everything alone, including his own recovery. Giving him space would equal isolating him. You didn’t know what to do and you missed Amanda and her insights more than ever.

Still, not moving was itself an answer.

 

**‘Robert, I know you’re there, and…**

**I’m not going to say you should be friends with Joseph or even to forgive him, Robert. He hurt you and it’s not right. And it’s okay to still feel this way.**

**All I can say is please? Can we talk?’**

 

He replied.

 

_‘fuck off’_

_‘you shouldn’t trust him’_

_‘he lied to everyone’_   To him.

 

**‘He lied, but ignorance isn’t malice; just because he hurt you doesn’t mean he actively seeks to hurt you**

**And just because you hate him doesn’t mean you should hurt yourself for the sake of pissing him off’**

 

_'people LIE’_

_‘you think they’re ignorant but they’re just waiting for you’_

_‘just a moment of weakness’_

_‘and that’s when they moved and robbed you at your weakest’_

_‘they took what they want and leave you alone’_

_‘when you want something more’_

_‘especially joseph’_

_‘I know’_

_‘he is that asshole’_

_‘and so am I’_

_‘you would know better’_

_‘I almost did the same to you ‘ wait wh--_

_'god I’m fucked up’_

_‘you’re the best thing happening to me and I wanted to treat you like trash’_

_‘I’m laughing’_

 

You’re reeling as the messages come. Your reply was slow, methodical, _patient._

 

**'.....okay, if you really cannot trust him, we can check online reviews. We can even find other places, or the ones in other states ’**

**‘And you didn’t do ANYTHING to me, Robert. I don’t blame you for anything.’**

**‘What do you need, Robert? What can I do to help you?’**

_‘no’_

_‘just fuck off’_

**‘Okay, if you need space, I’ll back off. Just..if you need something, just talk to me, alright? At least do it for Betsy, Robert. For Val and Betsy.’**

 

There was a long silence before he replied.

 

_‘actually you shouldn’t trust me either’_

_‘just fucking leave me’_

_‘you don’t deserve this’_

_‘any of this’_

_‘find someone else’_

_‘someone who’s not a mess’_

_‘who doesn’t push you away like me’_

 

Yeah, you could take the hit. You would take the hit. The walk to his house was short and the knocking on his door was loud. A picture of his door was sent, the shot eerily clear in the night.

 

**‘What makes you think I want anyone else but you? And anyway, I’m in front of your house, and I’m so goddamn ready to break your window in turn, or camp out.’**

**‘so please, open the door?’**

 

Your own aggression shocked you and you quickly decided to back down.

 

**'But if you want space, that’s okay. I’ll check on you tomorrow, just-- ’**

The door opened before you could finish writing the last message.

Robert was a mess. His hair was a crumpled, oily mess; his entire body was sweating and his eyes were red. The eyebags on his face were worse than they’d been the day you first met him, and his face was—you recognized that face too. It was your face many, many years ago, when the crushing pain, and guilt, and grief, had been too much for you. He pulled you into a desperate, crushing hug. You couldn’t smell alcohol but his state right now wasn’t something to be grateful for either. “Why do you always see me at my worst?” he whimpered, burying his face into your shoulder which felt damp, all of a sudden. You couldn’t breathe and you weren’t sure it was because of his tight embrace.

Everything was a mess, but he hung on. And he didn’t push you away. That was…enough, right?

By this time he’s tired, too tired, so he said nothing as you lead him through the messy house to his messy bedroom. Unlike all the times you had been into his bedroom, sex was the furthest thing in your head as you took off his soaked shirt and pants and handed him something more comfortable. He flumped on the bed and weakly exhaled; his body slightly curling on the bed. Betsy jumped to a spot near his leg  –you got this feeling she’s too used to this—and you carefully positioned yourself in front of him, holding his body close. His teeth were initially cackling, but they slowly calmed, leaving only signs of movement from Betsy, and then, finally, Robert’s light snoring.

Throughout the night, he was still warm, and you were surrounded by his scent, but your mind was plagued with how heartbreaking his moans and groans could sound. He felt so weak and small in your arms. Again.

 

***********

 

The hallway in the photo Robert sent was laid with wooden flooring. Natural sunshine entered freely from the glass windows on the left, shining on an oil painting of flowers. Beyond those glass panels was a small garden, and you could see someone doing yoga under a tree. A second photo was taken, a line of plush turquoise sofa on ceramic tiles, all filled with people. Everyone in that picture looked stressed, tired, or both. Robert himself might have a similar look. His face when he had left wasn’t exactly the picture of enthusiasm.

You replied with a picture of Betsy lying down, showing her belly and looking pleased as a hand –yours—scratched it.

 

_'fuck'_

_'I'm scared'_

 

It took the three of you, Mary, and Val (with a special performance by Betsy) to slowly dismantle Robert’s walls. Surprisingly, when he did, he was compliant. Most of the other dads aided Robert in their own way, even Joseph still supplied various baked goods for everyone else without interacting with Robert. You wanted to think the better of the friendly pastor, but you still kept any baked goods away from Robert’s sight.

 

**'You can do it. You hunt cryptids for fun, for gosh darned sake.**

**Do you want me to go there? There might be time for me to call a cab.'**

 

_'no'_

_'you already did so much. Just…no’_

_‘just’_

_'I'm scared'_

_'fuck'_

_'just let me hunt some cryptid'_

_‘that’s easier than this’_

 

You sent a picture of Betsy’s face, tongue wagging happily.

 

**'Betsy is cheering for you :D**

**Wanna go tonight ? Talk about today and hunting demons? Or do you want to do anything else?’**

 

_'looking for demons after confronting demons huh'_

_‘sounds nice’_

_‘have you picked a weapon? don’t buy anything other than a knife’_

_‘they need training’_

_‘someone once bought a silver longsword’_

_‘thought he could be Blade’_

_‘ended up discovering his wife sleeping with another woman and using it to the woman’_

_‘sliced his cock in half as a result’_

_‘had to attach it on his own’_

 

**‘You’re not serious.’**

 

_‘yeah, he cut his fingers once and brought to ER.’_

_‘disappeared from the community after that’_

_‘probably a worse fate if you asked me’_

_‘ohfuck’_

_‘my turn’_

 

He didn’t say anything else. A sigh was let go in silence.

Now, the only way from here is forward.

 

***********

 

The picture you sent Robert was mostly blackness. The camera’s flash gave certain places some modicum of lighting, showing grass and branches and the ground.

 

 **‘Seriously Robert, there was nothing. I don’t hear any movement either’** You’re…not lying. Only hoping.

 

_‘no’_

_‘I SWEAR something’s moving’_

_‘it’s looking at us’_

_‘it’s lurking’_

_‘waiting’_

_‘for its moment’_

_‘we gotta try again’_

_‘tonight we probably can ambush it’_

_‘besides you get to spend time with me’_

_‘in the dark’_

_‘just the two of us’_

_‘I’m looking forward for that ;)’_

 

After everything, the enthusiasm was welcomed and endearing. Who were you to say anything? Surely the Dover Ghost would understand. But still, you’re teasing Robert.

 

**‘Fine, but if we see nothing, you’re taking me to a movie’**

_‘oh please’_

_‘I don’t need a bet to take you to a date’_

_‘tonight we hunt’_

_‘tomorrow we’re watching a movie’_

 

That was unexpectedly welcome.

 

***********

You took the picture of your tickets, and then deleted it because by god you were Old and Decrepit.

The next evening, the cinema played a European movie said to be popular during Cannes. When it started his hand was in yours, and halfway through he moved your head to lie on his shoulder. It’s honestly hard to focus on what happened on the screen when he’s smiling _like that_ and looking at you _like that._ His hand was rough and warm, but his body was warmer, and the warmth spread onto you.

 

***********

 

Robert hadn’t come out yet, and Betsy was impatient. The dog kept circling you, never sitting for a long time. Her stubbly feet wobbled left and right, and she seemed to chase some imaginary creature in front of them. Like owner like dog, you thought, or maybe there was something hiding, somewhere. The thought did give you pause, and you wielded the switch knife Robert gave you. It was always there, safe in your pocket.

Therapy had been going well. Robert’s contact with Val was steady and he slept better and was frustrated much less whenever you and Mary accompanied him whenever possible. Just by looking you could tell that he was freed from a lot of burdens, and the rest were being worked on. Rehab was raised again as an option, but Robert was consistent in not aiming for total abstinence, so they seemed to settle on slowly tapering his intake while dealing with everything else. Together with his self-control, he seemed to deal with that part well enough.

Memories were different. Fleeting as they were, when they came they were ruthless. There were times where he would just talk to you about his past and what a past that was and his voice would begin to croak before he would inevitably stop. Your hands were now familiar with the calluses on his fingers, and you have established a cuddling position giving the most comfort for both of you. He didn’t ask for more. That was okay. One step at a time.

You had been accompanying him for most of the sessions (Mary cackled like the Devil when asked, and that was the end of that idea) and today was one such day. Betsy let a few barks, and from that direction her owner appeared. She ran with a speed that defied her short legs as Robert laughed, kneeled, and caught her. One big whoop and Betsy was raised and held like a baby. Gone was Betsy’s impatience and she just snuggled with him. Robert laughed and cooed at her as one hand scratched her forehead, and it was practically begging to be preserved, so you took out your smartphone and aimed. One, two, three. You were starting to understand why Amanda was as attracted to photography as she was now.

He gently put Betsy down, looked at you, and his smile was filled with something tender, warm, and so comfortable. Another shot. And again. He walked closer to you and _— too close._ You put your smartphone down and looked at him. You slowly matched his smile; many, many things were unspoken, yet you understood.

“May I?” he asked, tone unusually soft, and you could feel the warmth of his breath and _fuck it what more could you do except close the distance between your lips_ ? And so you pulled his T-shirt and did just that. It tasted like gratitude, like a promise, and it felt as certain as the period in your writing. The end of something, the start of another.

He pulled you in a close hug. “I’m ready now,” he whispered and, before you got to savor his scent and body warmth, let you go to play with Betsy. You might have imagined it, but his ears looked redder.

“Robert!”

Holding Betsy, he turned to you with a happy grin.

 

Raising your smartphone, you snapped another picture.


	2. Interim: A Warzone in a Body of One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it unfair to look forward to end? Wanting Robert to return like before?
> 
> It was. That’s why he told you to wait. It might never end, he might never return to ‘before’. This is him; the land after the war. All his scars, all the sins he had made.
> 
> That might be the new normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW : Vague reference to an unspecified mental problem (Robert's), a very basic discussion of being in a relationship with a recovering alcoholic that included a mention about violence and abuse.
> 
> It's basically a fill-in-the blanks for the Taking Pictures; a thought exercise I'll detail on the end note. Nothing from Taking Pictures would change, and there'll still be a happy ending.
> 
> Also, I'm practicing to write angst. Constructive criticism would be welcomed :D

_“Why do you always see me at my worst?” he whimpered, burying his face into your shoulder which felt damp, all of a sudden. You couldn’t breathe and you weren’t sure it was because of his tight embrace._

_Everything was a mess, but he hung on. And he didn’t push you away. That was…enough, right?_

_By this time he’s tired, too tired, so he said nothing as you lead him through the messy house to his messy bedroom. Unlike all the times you had been into his bedroom, sex was the furthest thing in your head as you took off his soaked shirt and pants and handed him something more comfortable. He flumped on the bed and weakly exhaled; his body slightly curling on the bed. Betsy jumped to a spot near his leg  –you got this feeling she’s too used to this—and you carefully positioned yourself in front of him, holding his body close. His teeth were initially cackling, but they slowly calmed, leaving only signs of movement from Betsy, and then, finally, Robert’s light snoring._

 

That would have been the end of it, wouldn’t it?

No, unfortunately.

Robert Small was a warzone in a body of one, and you were the sole soldier breaching the frontline. For some reason he saw you as a threat, and just being in his line of sight became an act of aggression. The walls were erected, the cannons and landmines ready.

The retribution was….

It was _why are you still here._

It was _I can do this alone, thank you very fucking much._

It was _are you really that desperate to get into my pants._

It was _you’re a fucking idiot to waste your time, just leave me alone_.

It was a swift bullet to the heart, each and every one of them, until you noticed his eyes lingered where his words didn’t. Next, he would flinch after those words were out; as if he didn’t mean to shoot the gun, as if he feared your retaliation.

As if he feared you would join the ranks of the fallen.

Yet the bullets kept coming.

He didn't mean it, you convinced yourself. It was his pain and you could hold on. Still days passed and you were locked in a stalemate. Which one of his actions was the pain and which one was the truth?

Perhaps some distance would help. Hearing that, Robert just laughed with so much pain and bitterness, waving you away with a “yeah, sure, whatever,” and you somehow _knew_ that once you exited that door, the war would be over. You would join the ranks of the fallen, those who hurt him and those he had hurt.

So, you stayed, alone, with Robert’s words bubbling inside you.

===========

Another day came. Another day under siege, another day in the no man’s land.

Except today angels were descending in the shape of Craig. River waved her hand. Mary was there too. Having Craig’s smile juxtaposed with Mary was weird.

 

“Hey, bro.” Craig grinned without care of how you looked.

Thank all that’s holy and good, but no, not Mary.

Why not Mary?

Mary had _four_ children and a complicated marriage, that’s why.

 

The woman herself just butted in without care. She looked around. “You looked like trash. Where’s the other trash?”

“Robert?” you asked. “He’s..in his room.”

“Good.” She strode to the kitchen. “Cahn, do your thing.”  
  
Your old friend wrapped his arms around your shoulder. River yanked your shirt. “Let’s go outside, bro. Exercise!”

“What.” _What._

“We’ll go slow, bro. Just a walk under the sun, getting that sweet Vitamin D.” He was already bright like the sun.

 

There were sounds from the kitchen, heavy things pounding the table. Bottles, alcohol bottles. Of course Mary knew where Robert’s booze were stashed.

 

“Wait, why are you here? Why is Mary here? What happened?”

“Mary called me.” Craig shrugged. “Hadn’t heard from you for a while, bro. Couldn’t believe you were just next door.”

“Val happened,” shouted Mary from the kitchen. “And I wonder _why_ she had the initiative to call.”

Val. Of course she was concerned. But it would be especially unfair to dump all of this to Val again, wouldn’t it?

 

Did Robert do this?

 

Craig cut your thought short by leaning forward, with puppy eyes and a frown. “Come on, bro. Or me and River will get sad. Really, really sad.”

Sound of water hitting the sink. No, not water. Mary’s dumping the alcohol down the drain.

You started to argue. “Robert—“

“Will be fine. There’s Mary, and he wouldn’t die being alone for a few hours. You, though—“ He beamed even more, as if to hide the face he was about to make, “You need the time off.”

Mary appeared again, unperturbed. “You thought I had no idea.”

You were speechless. So was the plan.

“I know him longer than you, nerd.” Her smirk was different. “And even then I underestimated him. Look at you.”

You wordlessly glared at Craig. _What do I look like._

He shrugged and grinned. _I can’t tell you, bro._

She folded her arms. “Don’t worry about Robert. Do you want him to get better?”

You nodded.

“Then go. I’ll take care of him today.” There was a tender smile on her face, and you knew _shit had hit the fan._ “You can’t deal with this alone.”

“What about Joseph?” You just had to ask.

Her expression was answer enough. _Why should I give a fuck—and why should you_.

 

“Uh.” She’s not moving.

“I’ll, go outside then.” Still not moving.

“Taking a walk. With Craig. And River.” She was still staring.

“Call me if something happened?”

 

“ _Go._ ”

You retreated with Craig and River.

 

===========

 

Sweating was okay. Sunshine was good. Craig was very good. Being tired enough to not think or feel was glorious. It was a perfect morning for a jog. From how short the route was, Craig was serious when he said both of you would go slowly. It was mostly spent playing with River and catching up with him; listening about the twins, the thirsty moms, his life, the glimpse of the world outside the warzone.

You were in a familiar state. Locking yourself in, not knowing anything about the world, having it shrunk down into Amanda and the space where Alex had resided before. And Craig had no idea about all of it.

By the time you reached the cul-de-sac, it was noon, and you felt almost ready to take the front line again.

Almost.

Craig didn’t even sweat. “See, nothing happened. The world’s alright.” He nudged you with his elbow. You had to laugh. And let a big yawn afterwards.

His face was a picture of accomplishment and joy. “I’ll text you, okay bro? I’d hang, but Briar and Hazel--“

“No, don’t worry.” You absently turned to Robert’s house. “I’ll probably…sleep. Take a shower. Call Amanda.”

“That’s my bro.” Craig cheered. To your surprise, he leaned forward and gave you a crushing hug. “You’re not alone. We’re here, okay?”

 

His voice rasped.

 

You returned the hug. It was so kind, so strong, and it lingered until your friend left, and you entered your home. You called Amanda. You took a hot shower. And the moment you met your bed it beckoned you into a dreamless sleep.

Playing hero. Martyr complex. Those were what people would call this.

 

===========

 

Robert messaged you later that day.

 

_‘don’t come here’_

_‘I need time’_

_‘give me three days’_

_‘no’_

_‘two days’_

_‘I want to apologize but’_

_‘there’s so much things I have to sort out’_

_‘and’_

_‘…I need time.’_

**‘..Will you be alright?’**

_‘I will’_

**‘…Take care, then, Robert.’**

_‘thanks’_

_‘you take care of yourself’_

_‘please don’t die’_

 

Wow. A semblance of humor; Mary must have used magic. But then, Robert was a warzone. Of course it would take a tank to endure the assault.

Craig’s word echoed. _You’re not alone._

===========

>  
> 
> **Hugo:** The very first thing is, you should remember to take care of yourself.
> 
> **You:** So I heard.
> 
> **Hugo:** And that is true. So many people in your situation neglect themselves. And I’m talking about all sorts of people; friends, family, lovers, spouses…
> 
> **Hugo:** Maybe they thought it was easy. Maybe they have a demanding job, maybe they have children or other family members to take care of, maybe they are also dealing with their own demons… Either way, the results are the same.
> 
> **Hugo:** They got too tired to deal with the obstacles, they don’t have enough patience when the person was being testy, they got too hurt to communicate clearly…. Again, the results are the same.
> 
> **You:** ……Breaking up.
> 
> **Hugo:** At best. At worst it’s a slow descend to madness. So many stories had been written about this. Most ended in tears. Many ended worse.
> 
> **Hugo:** Caregiver burnout is a reality.
> 
> **You:** That sounds really scary.
> 
> **Hugo:** Very much.
> 
> **Hugo:** So, selfcare. Do your hobbies, or learn new one. Sleep well, eat well, exercise. All the things that make you happy, do it.
> 
> **Hugo:** All the things you want Amanda to have, you do it.
> 
> **Hugo:** You can even go to a professional yourself if you need to.
> 
> **You:** I’m good, for now, Hugo. Thanks; I’ll try.
> 
> **Hugo:** Which goes to the second thing; and I have to be blunt here—has Robert ever hit you?
> 
> **You:** No
> 
> **You:** Dear god no
> 
> **Hugo:** Glad to hear that. And that is a real possibility you should remember—it could and had lead to violence. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
> 
> **Hugo:** What about verbal abuse? Emotional?
> 
> **You:** He—said a bit.
> 
>  

No, you shouldn’t make excuses for him.

 

> **You:** He said some harsh things.
> 
> **Hugo:** Talk to him about that. Even if he’s in a bad place, that does not give him an okay to insult or mock or lie to you.
> 
> **You:** Will it be okay? Wouldn’t he be…

 

 _Boo fucking hoo,_ your mind imagined Robert saying. _If you couldn’t handle this, maybe I’m not for you._

 

> **Hugo:** Hurt? Defensive? Maybe, yet I’ll ask you to think about it this way.
> 
> **Hugo:** If it was Amanda in your position, what would you do? What advice would you give?
> 
> **You:** ….Point taken, Mr. Vega.
> 
> **Hugo:** Granted, Hanlon’s razor might play here.
> 
> **You:** Uh……Anything that can go wrong, will?
> 
> **Hugo:** No, sorry. That was Murphy’s law. Basically, "Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” He might be clueless instead of mean. That doesn’t change the fact that he hurt you, and that’s where you need to work hard.
> 
> **Hugo:** Talk to him. Address your problem. Constructive criticism, not simply proving you’re right.
> 
> **Hugo:** Teach him how to deal with you. Communicate what is okay and what is not.
> 
> **You:** Alright, I will. That part sounds familiar enough.
> 
> **You:** And if it doesn’t work, then….
> 
> **Hugo:** It doesn’t.
> 
> **Hugo:** So many people chose to trap themselves in a toxic relationship because they were afraid they will hurt the other. That their partner will become worse and it’s all their fault.
> 
> **Hugo:** It’s human, and I disagreed. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
> 
> **You:** Even if their partner became suicidal?
> 
> **Hugo:** Especially that.
> 
> **Hugo:** As much as I understand how you want to help, that is not something you are well-equipped for.
> 
> **Hugo:** That needs a professional.
> 
> **Hugo:** You’re not obligated to stay for his sake, much less if he treated you badly.
> 
> **You:** I know.
> 
>  

Reflecting on yourself, it was fear, you were aware. Fear of Robert becoming worse. You would never want to break his heart, but what if this was the one that broke him? What if –you- were the one who broke him?

Only now, you added the fear of having Robert broke you. You feared this warmth inside you turning into something broken and horrible.

 

> **You:** How do you know this much, Hugo?
> 
> **You:** …Please don’t say it was experience.
> 
> **Hugo:** Fortunately, no. My ex is nothing like that.
> 
> **Hugo:** It’s just part of being a teacher and a book reader.
> 
> **Hugo:** I should keep it at that. You have a lot in your hands right now.
> 
> **You:** Thank you, Hugo. Sorry for taking your time.
> 
> **Hugo:** I should be the one apologizing. Sorry I can’t do anything other than this.
> 
> **You:** It’s more than enough, Hugo.
> 
> **You:** I felt like after a marriage and having a daughter I should know better.
> 
> **You:** looking at it… Alex and Amanda are nothing like this.
> 
> **You:** I should make a blood sacrifice for that.
> 
> **Hugo:** Hm.
> 
> **You:** ..uh. Oops. Sorry. Guess I did hang out too much with Robert.
> 
> **Hugo:** Don’t worry. If a sacrifice can summon a god, I probably would have done it before you.
> 
> **Hugo:** Being a teacher makes you wish for an Elder God sometimes.
> 
> **Hugo:** Colin.
> 
>  

===========

 

You pondered. Was it unfair to look forward to the end? Wanting Robert to return like before?

It was. That’s why he told you to wait. It might never end, he might never return to ‘before’. This is him; the land after the war. All his scars, all the sins he had made.

That might be the new normal.

In sickness and health, you had sworn once. This was also part of it, wasn’t this?

 

===========

 

Exactly two days later, Robert messaged you to come. He was sitting in his (much cleaner) living room, watching _Casablanca_ of all things, Betsy nowhere to be seen.

**“I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.”**

“Why didn’t you listen,” muttered Robert. “Why do you always see me at my worst? Why do you stay, even after.. everything?” 

At first you readied for another barrage, but this felt different. This wasn’t a skirmish.

Humphrey Bogart on the screen didn’t give you any clue either. “I don’t know.”

“I call bullshit,” shot Robert.

“At worst I’d like to think I’m a good person by trying to help you atone and everything. But I think just want to see you become better. ” He didn’t respond. “I get this feeling that you’re seeing yourself as this monster and—“ You vigorously shook your head. “That’s just plain wrong.”

 

A monster wouldn’t make that face.

 

He evaded your eyes, quoting the end of the movie with gritted teeth. “If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”

You replied with another quote. “You know how you sound, Mr. Blaine? Like a man who's trying to convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart.”

That shut him up again.

“There’s more to you than just your pain and mistakes. If I accidentally made it my mission to make sure you know it, it’s because you deserve to know that.”

“I still find it hard to believe.” admitted Robert. He sounded really tired.

 _Communicate what is okay and what is not._ “That’s okay, I got all the time to prove it. But …do you want me to?”

Nothing happened. Only the movie kept playing; the game of love soon coming to a close.

Robert slowly nodded in understanding and opened his hands. His voice were low, his words deliberate. “I used to think I can do this on my own. That I can be a better man without anyone’s help. “

You reached his hand. He grasped it.

“I can't fight it anymore. I ran away from you once. I can't do it again. For saying all of those horrible things, for pushing you away after you did so much, I apologize.”

 

And with that, the last bullet was shot. _Finally._

You gave him a warm smile. _In sickness and health._ “I need to learn about you as much as you need to learn about me. Can you help me with that? Can I help you with that?"

He nodded. He was filled with resolve.

On the screen, Humphrey Bogart was holding Ingrid Bergman’s chin, holding it so their eyes met. Your thumb traced the tattoo on Robert’s knuckle. A reminder.

**“Here's looking at you, kid.”**

The older man shared your cheeky smile, knowing that your future was different than theirs. It would not be particularly easy. But now you knew better. And you still got a future to fight for.

“You’re not alone, Robert. None of us are.”

 

The war is over for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aside from the bolded one, these quotes:  
> “If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”  
> “You know how you sound, Mr. Blaine? Like a man who's trying to convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart.”  
> “I can't fight it anymore. I ran away from you once. I can't do it again."  
> Were also from Casablanca.
> 
> Constructive criticism and kudos would be very much welcomed <3
> 
> .....So I had this nagging feeling that my story was actually the bad choice for Robert x Dadsona route, because of how close they became even without actually getting together. The plot bunny gnawed and everything just rolled down.
> 
> Also I really want to try writing other people in the cul-de-sac I'm so sorry.


	3. Interim: Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting. Robert never waited, considering all the stagnancy the concept implied. He hunted and escaped and worked on himself and pushed people away, but he never waited.

_‘hey’_

_‘hey’_

_‘heey’_

_‘wyd’_

_‘got bodies to bury’_

_‘hey’_

_‘..actually nevermind’_

_‘you must be tired’_

_‘sry’_

_‘gnight’_

 

===========

 

The slow pull of consciousness was smooth and dreamless this time.

Your brain hummed a song from a musical you once heard years ago, as memory conveniently forgot the accompanying loneliness. Warmth and coldness mixed together, making you pull the blanket closer while turning around, huddling inside your bed. The coldness was air conditioner, yes, and…what time is it?

Slowly, bleary eyes opened, facing the darkened street outside the window. The sense of time returned--Friday. It also carried a blurred memory of today; a busy day with lots to do and nothing to really remember except the yearning for rest. You barely could take a shower before dropping yourself to bed.

Conclusion: You took a nap and it was good.

What time is it? Reaching for the phone revealed that it was past midnight. The notifications showed the last message. Five hours ago--from Robert. Oh fuck, you slept that long?

 

**‘Hey, sorry; was taking a nap…Long nap. You still up? Where are you now?’**

 

No reply. Unpleasant thoughts started to crawl inside; not strong enough to resemble panic, nagging enough to create unpleasantness.

The conscious mind worked.

To be very fair, you were really busy catching up with work.

To be very fair, Robert was never the kind who instantly replied your messages.

To be very fair, Robert might be asleep or occupied right now.

To be very fair, these days he often was too exhausted to charge his phone, and you couldn’t blame him.

 

Silence was still silence. You wanted to see him.

 

Easier to get up and visit your neighbor. Changing your clothes, brushing your teeth, and you were out in no time. 

(You looked at the mirror; you still needed sleep).

 

Reaching Robert’s house was easy. Waiting was not; knocking the door gave no answer and ringing the bell would be impolite. He could stay awake much later than this.

Okay, there were easy obvious reasons for this. He might be sleeping, he might be out walking, and it was not your business to know everything about his activities and whereabouts.

 

Sigh.

 

===========

 

It was unnerving. You took a short walk around, and the world was waiting for something. The air was stale, your footsteps the only sounds aside from the vague rustling of the leaves. You had hoped to meet Robert out there and a part felt disappointed when you didn’t.

Something was unusual.

 

Fact number one reminded you that this was part and parcel of your own demons. You had suffered worse. The supporting fact went on to add that years of experience and help from many had established coping mechanism for situations like this.

(Okay, sometimes it didn’t work. Brains and minds could be unpredictable that way. It might be one of those days, except things were manageable before you read the message.)

Maybe it was worry. Maybe it was longing.

 

There really was no one else. Not Damien, or Mary, anyone from Jim and Kim’s—no one.

Continue. You found it hard to choose. Explaining why was easy: Your attachment to Robert Small made it easier to get affected by the slightest action and reaction; such was the nature of the feeling. Add that he carried his demons and it would be easy to confuse one feeling with another in such a situation.

 

There _really_ was no one out here. The full moon was hidden by the clouds. While there were lights inside the houses, nothing moved as far as you could see. You would have called the silence soothing, but today the world felt like an angry parent scolding you to _shut up and stop delaying._ Or an establishing scene for a horror movie.

 

 _EXT. MAPLE BAY – NIGHT_

_The street was deserted. A lone Dad wandered alone, ignorant of the creeping danger waiting in the corner… It smiled, revealing fangs drenched in red. It was blood, fresh blood, and…._

 

You headed back to the cul-de-sac in record time.

 

===========

 

The demand whined in the back of your mind, petulant and needy, and it cheered in triumph when you saw _Robert_ outside his home with an impatient Betsy.

Still sitting, his gaze rested on you. Betsy eliminated any chance to react by rushing forward to your open arms with a happy bark.  She didn't seem to be bothered by the lateness at all. Holding her up in your arms, Betsy panted happily as she licked your face and you kissed her nose.

“Hi.” You rubbed her back as you sat down. Her tongue was ticklish, her scent an unexpected comfort, and you couldn’t help feeling like you had returned _home._

“I heard your knocking,” said Robert, seeking hints in the way you moved and reacted. His tone was heavy. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Returning the attention Robert was giving you, his hair was oily and messy and his eye bags were really defined, more than you did before the nap. You had seen worse, but the mere sight of them did enough to make your heart race. Maybe it was longing. Maybe it was worry and guilt because _oh god did you wake him up._

“That is not an answer.”  
  
“I mean, you didn’t reply back and I…I just wanted to meet you. Is it okay for me to be here?"

“I’m not telling you where you oughta be.” said Robert firmly. “But you don’t have to worry.”

You frowned. “I don’t believe you.”

His hands curled into a tight fist, and it made you flinch. For a long uncomfortable second you thought he was going to break, but what came out was instead a little smile that looked too trusting, too vulnerable.

“And tell me you’re here because you’re not worried,” countered Robert, his shoulders drooping as he leaned slightly forward. “You’re not looking too good yourself.”

Sweat trickled on your back.

“You said there were bodies to bury. I want to see if the organs were still good. I need _frrrrrresh materrrrrrials_.” You wiggled your fingers and put the best mad scientist act you could muster now. It was bad.

Glancing, your neighbor hadn’t moved his eyes. And he was being very, very still. Waiting for the truth. The polite response to his lack of reaction would be to quickly say your goodbyes. Instead, suddenly becoming all coy, you dug the hole further. “Can I go inside?”

“…..No.” Robert was firm as he reached to carefully take Betsy into his arms. His arms were slightly sticky with sweat, and his scent filled your senses in the stale air; musk and cigarette and sweat combined to urge every inch of you to keep him close, to hold him in your arms. “Wait here,” muttered the man contritely.

He carried Betsy inside.

 

===========

 

While his scent lingered in the back of your mind, you atoned.

_“And tell me you’re here because you’re not worried,”_

You were rationally aware and ready for problems, so no; but you couldn’t deny the discomfort, so…maybe?

And the pull felt like something else entirely. Longing, you decided as a long yawn broke itself through. It was annoying that you had been right all along, but in retrospect, you had tasted the fruits of recovery, after all.

 

_After everything, the enthusiasm was welcomed and endearing. Who were you to say anything? Surely the Dover Ghost would understand._

_The next evening, the cinema played a European movie said to be popular during Cannes. When it started his hand was in yours, and halfway through he moved your head to lie on his shoulder. It’s honestly hard to focus on what happened on the screen when he’s smiling like that and looking at you  like that. His hand was rough and warm, but his body was warmer, and the warmth spread onto you._

Craving.

 

===========

 

Footsteps broke your thoughts. You noticed Robert changed his clothes, and a whiff of detergent breezed through as he sat down. He was close, really close; it soothed the mind as much as it was a struggle not to lean your head on his shoulder. Thankfully, willpower won, and you merely studied his face, brooding at the cul-de-sac.

It was never as obvious as say, Hugo, and neither was it as soothing as Mat, but there was always a sense of groundedness around the older dad ever since the first time you saw him. Hidden underneath his bawdry tales and macabre sense of humor were this assurance that—if one day, _somehow_ , you really need to go off the grid and hide in a random, unfamiliar, and potentially dangerous place (so, the Amazonia, or Florida), he would be riding beside you, Betsy in the middle, no questions asked. No matter how much layers you had peeled, you still couldn’t deny this allure of his.

It might have been what made you gaze at the rough, stormy sea more than a year ago.

“Sorry,” muttered Robert as he took out a combat knife. Unusually, he focused his sight on the gleaming steel.

You tried holding the neutral expression. “…Are you alright?”

“Can’t sleep. Lots of thoughts.”  You watched the knife flew upwards, spun a full circle, before falling back into his grip handle first.

“Want to talk about it?”

The knife twirled around his hands wildly before settling back to his grip, again. “Not before you tell me the truth.” His voice was low, and you wondered it was only because of the time and place. You had expected him to be angry, to be betrayed. Oddly, his eyes revealed nothing as he fixed his gaze at the knife, again, like he was waiting.

Waiting. Robert never waited, considering all the stagnancy the concept implied. He hunted and escaped and worked on himself and pushed people away, but he never waited. There was a strange security in that realization. Secure enough for you to talk.

 “I have no idea.” You began, only to stop. It was _so simple yet so heavy_. It was silly, and it was true. “…I miss you.”

The older man’s voice was low and remorseful. “Me too.”

It was surprising to see his hand rising up, even moreso when it almost touched your cheeks. Oh, how ecstatic were the sounds inside your heart, obscenity filling your body as your head absently leaned towards the hand. Closing your eyes, waiting, hoping for it to come sooner, and whimpering in pain when it was pulled away before skin could touch skin. You could feel the hand, the presence, the way his hand blocked the wind, the tension as it curled into a fist.

The world was bathed in silence.

You almost wished this was a dream. That you would wake up again, on your bed, humming a song from a musical you once heard years ago. And you would make a better choice. Nobody would be hurt like these. Then Robert let a long, exhausted sigh, and you knew this was reality. Here, ugly things happened and people hurt each other even when they didn’t mean it. That cut the self-wallowing down; you knew what you wanted and you knew where you were. The rest was effort, and waiting.

He carefully placed the knife on the floor. “…Can’t say what I’ll do to you if you are inside now.”

“Why?”  
  
“Because I was thinking about the future.”

What a whiplash. “The future?”

“Mine. Yours, ours, if it’s going to happen.” He turned his body to face you again, gazing, studying. “How I’m going to be more present in Val’s life. How I’m going to support you. Money matters.”

Robert Small never waited. And he certainly never talked about the future. You returned his gesture, tilting your head to let him continue.

It took a while before he did. “Having you with me means also taking care of Amanda. That means I’m going to have two daughters instead of one I barely bothered to care, and that’s not counting their partners.”

The future was something you had thought about before. These days it seemed much better to deal with in daily basis, so seeing him thinking so far short-circuited _everything._

He smiled at your shocked face. “Not only that. There’s also the issue of _our_ retirement, and _our_ healthcare, and—“

You filled in the blanks. “Recovery.”

Robert nodded. “It all means money. And, not so surprisingly foreseeing all the ways everything could fuck up.” There was the slightest twitch around his jaws as he grinded his teeth. “And that’s why I don’t want you inside right now. I don’t want you to push yourself further than you already have.”

“What makes you think I’m pushing myself?” You were so ready to prove him wrong when the body betrayed the mind by suddenly yawning, and Robert laughed.

“I could repeat your words back to you.” Surprisingly, there was only tenderness in his eyes. He was not wrong. “I almost stayed inside when you first came. I—it breaks me to see you like that, this late in the night, just because of me.”

“I’m sorry,” You winced _._

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Today was shitty. I’m prepared for this.” _And so should you,_ it went unsaid _._

It left one more question. “Then—why are you here and not inside?”

“….Because you’ve waited long enough.”

You saw his eyes, the observing eyes…did they belong to a lurking predator, or a cornered prey?

Robert made a little wounded sound, rubbing his hands over his face. “And that’s what I’m about to ask more from you.  A little more, just a little more, and—“

 _You knew what you wanted and you knew where you were._ “…I’m not leaving anywhere.”

That stopped him.

“Yeah. I’ll wait. As painful as it was, I can deal with a _someday_.” If the feeling you felt before was petulant and needy, this was the grown up version of it. “In fact, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to literally wait here everyday until you accepted me. Ain’t that _romantic._ “

He looked stunned. His hands were clenched tight, as if thinking, processing. Slowly, a smile grew. It was patient, secure, then it grew into a full grin as he playfully waved his hand to the direction of your house. “You’re blocking my entrance. Shoo.”

Your laugh was louder than you planned it to be.

It was strange how the stillness of the world had started to feel comfortable. You spent an unspecified moment together in silence, gazing around the cul-de-sac, letting the tension deflate. It finally died with a huge yawn that came out from your mouth.

Robert picked his knife and stood up. “So, about the body, no surprise, there was none. But tomorrow? Got a fresh batch of bodies coming up-- you’re going to like the goods, that much I swear.”

“Tomorrow, huh?” you smiled, a bit tinged with worry. “But will you be okay?“

“That’s why I’m going to try to sleep again. And that’s why I want you to rest. There might be a cryptid out there, or worse, _tourists.”_

You shrugged and began standing up as well. “Well, that’s just more bodies to experiment with.”

The older man recoiled back with an expression of melodramatic disgust. “They are filled with sugar and fat and bourgeois malaise. _Ew._ I thought you were a connoisseur of human organs.”

Folding your arms, your mad scientist grin was more natural this time. “And you’re sure your merchandise arrrrrre purrrrfect for me?”

“Find out tomorrow.” He grinned back.

“Okay, okay.” You glanced at your house, then back to Robert. “Don’t hesitate if you need a rain check.”

The little smile returned again. Too trusting, too vulnerable. He turned his body and opened the door. “Right. Good night.”

 _Well, since tonight became a time for talking about the future and waiting…._ “Robert?”

He looked back.

You gave the most challenging smile you could imagine. “If—when us happened, please fuck me real good.”

His smile grew into blinding, painful levels. “Wait for it. Oh, you just wait for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just kind of trying to fill in certain mental blanks while trying to practice writing pining and actions.
> 
> Unbeta'ed, so apologies for the grammatical errors. Constructive criticisms are welcomed :D

**Author's Note:**

> A special message from the legend, Trifoilum themselves:
> 
> " 1) Seriously, special credits for the exposeph Discord. Some of the concepts were inspired by them and I got these quotes directly from them:
> 
> 'hey I whittle I don't make silicon moulds' is from glittermilk in exposeph  
> '....so if I message you in 4 am saying "I think theres a splinter in my asshole", wanna get it out for me?' is paraphrased from @caraxyz
> 
> 'silicon only captures the shape of my dick but it doesnt capture the SPIRIT'  
> 'if its any help every time i had to jack myself off again for reference i thought of you' (credits for @TunaaBabee
> 
> AND THEN THEY HELPED ME WHEN I HAVE WRITER'S BLOCK AND AAAAAH
> 
> 2) Sorry Robert I broke you in an unsexy way plz don't kill me ;__;"
> 
> 3) 8/8/17 ETA : I'm finally finished editing the piece! Special thanks for @RebelMage for betaing this; my god there's so much grammatical errors.


End file.
